The Purest Hook (Second Circle Tattoos #3)(77)

*

Later on that day, Pixie hurried back into the house using the key Dred had given her. She turned and bumped the stroller up the step and reversed into the hallway. Removing her sunglasses, she heard raised voices from the direction of the kitchen. Someone was shouting, but she couldn’t make out who. Quickly, Pixie took her coat off and hung it on one of the hooks, and then slipped her feet out of her boots.

Petal was stirring, so she removed the blankets Dred had wrapped her in before they headed out. Toronto was a beautiful city and the weather was so much milder than the last time she’d visited. They’d walked through Cabbagetown; past Canada’s National Ballet School where a beautiful old building had been surround on three sides by something starkly modern, all angles and sheets of glass; and up along the side of Queen’s Park until they reached the Royal Ontario Museum, which she remembered from her first trip to the city.

Then they’d meandered home along Bloor Street, admiring all the beautiful high-end stores she’d never be able to afford to shop in. It was the Toronto equivalent of Miami’s Bal Harbor. She never shopped there either.

Pixie checked her phone. Dred had told her he had an hour-long meeting with Sam and the band, so she’d offered to take Petal out for some fresh air in the sunshine. Her fitness app told her she’d walked a little over three miles and had been gone for seventy-seven minutes. She slipped it back in her pocket and lifted Petal out of the stroller. The little girl was starting to get some strength in her neck and fists given the way she tugged on Pixie’s hair.

The voices were getting louder.

“I don’t give a f*ck what you think, Sam. I’m not doing it,” Dred shouted.

“Dred, be reasonable, you can’t cancel everything.”

Pixie followed the sound of voices to the large family room.

“Yes, we can. We are so f*cking far behind with the album, we need to get our heads down. Disappear into the studio and stay there for a while.”

Dred’s brow was furrowed, and his arms were folded in front of his chest. She considered leaving them, but as she was about to step away, Petal started to cry. Everyone in the room looked in her direction.

“Sorry,” she said nervously. “We just got back, and I think Petal’s hungry.”

“Hey. How are my girls?” Dred said, walking toward them. He pulled them in for a hug and kissed her forehead, then Petal’s.

“We didn’t mean to interrupt. If you tell me how to get a bottle ready, I can feed her in the living room, give you guys some privacy.”

Sam rolled his eyes at her. He’d not liked her since their first meeting in the hotel when Dred was sick.

“I got it,” Jordan said, grabbing a container of formula from the countertop.

Sam coughed loudly. “What were you saying? That’s right. You want to disappear out of sight just before a new album and tour, right?” he asked sarcastically.

“No,” said Lennon. “What we were saying is, there won’t be an album, if we don’t do this.”

“The label—”

“Fuck the label, Sam. Get us a meeting with them. Face-to-face. It’s their fault for being so damned unreasonable,” Dred said, his arm still around her and Petal.

It all seemed unreasonable to her. She got the fact that tours needed to be booked months and years in advance to secure venues, but surely it was up to the band if they wanted to commit to anything on top of that.

“Yeah, “ Nikan added. “It’s ridiculous how close they jammed recording and touring.”

“What’s ridiculous is how you guys can’t focus,” Sam said looking over at her.

Dred released her and stepped forward, towering over Sam. “We’re entitled to have lives.”

“You need to wake up to what is going on, Dred. You’re all distracted.”

“What do you want me to do? You want to tell my daughter I’m too busy to deal with her right now?”

“Of course not. But deal with it differently. Hire nannies. Three of them if you need to, so you can still take on all these commitments. Get rid of all the other distractions.” Sam stared in her direction again. “Now is not the time to complicate your lives. Keep them simple.”

Jordan handed her the bottle and a burp cloth with a reassuring wink. Assuming it was in everybody’s best interest for her to go, she headed for the living room.

“Pix, wait up,” Dred called after. Petal started to really cry. “Stay in here with us. Sam’s the one who’s leaving.”

Pixie wanted to crawl into a giant hole in the floor. She was pretty certain she wasn’t the cause of the conversation, but she was being sucked into it whether she wanted it or not. She focused on placing the cloth over her shoulder and positioning Petal so she could feed her. The hungry little mite rooted on the bottle and drank as if her life depended on it.

“We aren’t done,” Sam said indignantly, a blotchy red flush to his skin.

“Yeah. We are,” Dred shook his head sadly. “I’m done with you making us feel shitty about everything we do, Sam. It’s never enough. We need you to be on our side, not constantly treating us like we’re errant f*cking kids.” Petal tracked her daddy with her eyes, and despite the tense situation, it was a lovely thing.

Sam stood and gathered his papers. “So, what. You’re firing me?”